I was thinking this morning… We grew up in the Ogboru area of Warri at the time. Our neighbourhood had its fair share of jaguda and boma boys—ruffians who thrived on intimidation and violence.
As young boys, we mostly minded our business, but there were moments when these boys bullied and oppressed us. On one such occasion, my dad tried to intervene, and to my shock, these uncouth boys dared to insult him.
As a young boy, I expected my dad to respond with force—to smack them and defend his honour. Instead, he calmly pulled us into the house and warned us to stay away from the jagudas and focus on our studies. I felt disappointed then. It seemed to me that he had chosen weakness over strength by not giving violence for violence.
Many years later, after we had all graduated from the university, those same area bullies were mostly dropouts who had made little of their lives. Looking back, it became clear how easy it would have been for my dad to react in anger. But that reaction would likely have drawn more violence toward us—his prized jewels. He understood that it was better to remove us from danger and break the cycle of violence than to protect his pride or ego.
As I began to raise my own children, I often remembered that incident and taught them that not every violent situation in life deserves a violent response. I didn’t fully grasp the depth of that lesson until recently, when I came across a Senegalese proverb that says:
“The day a mosquito lands on your testicles is the day you will know there is a better way of resolving issues without using violence.”
My dad was a man of peace—one who walked away from trouble whenever he could. In the winter seasons of my life, I always remember the many lessons he taught me, keeping me warm till summer comes. I remember my dad again today in a happy way.
As the Scriptures say in Proverbs 10:7: “The memory of the righteous is blessed, but the name of the wicked will rot.”
Stay hopeful. God's got our back.
Happy Sunday!
......Just the thoughts of a certain Wey Mey






